Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

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Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 61

by Bridget Barton


  Charlotte watched the gentlemen and ladies dancing. They seemed more subdued than at the duke’s midsummer ball the previous week, and she had little doubt it was because it was an alcohol free event. The lady organisers insisted upon it. Apparently, the beau monde needed a break from overindulgence. And if they wouldn’t do it themselves, then Almack’s would do it for them.

  “Lemonade will be best,” said Diana, fanning herself. “You drank too much champagne at the duke’s ball, George. When you insisted I dance with you, you kept stepping on my toes. I swear my feet have not recovered since. They were black and blue all over.”

  Charlotte smiled as they bickered further, picking up her own lemonade. She stifled a yawn. It was getting late and she was bored. Even though her symptoms had not returned, it might still be time to depart.

  Her eyes scanned the crowd again. She knew that she was searching for him, almost against her will. She had taken herself to task soundly when they had left the midsummer ball. On the short carriage ride home she had stared out of the window at the grand houses on Piccadilly and thought of the moment when the golden-haired young lady had interrupted them. About how she had taken an instant dislike to the lady, and the strange feelings she had endured.

  It was not to be tolerated, she thought now. She had no business harbouring such thoughts about Lord Sebastian. She had her malady and it was only going to worsen. She couldn’t court or develop fond feelings for any man. She must not. And yet when she had gone to bed after the ball she had not been able to stop herself picturing him on the balcony, staring at her with those vivid green eyes that seemed to reach right into her soul.

  “George,” she said now, stifling another yawn. “Do you think it is time for us to go?”

  Her brother raised his eyebrows. “You are worse than an old matron, Lottie. It is not even eleven. Do you need to pick up your embroidery and sit with a tabby cat on your lap?”

  Diana swatted him with her fan. “Do not tease her so, brother.” She turned to Charlotte. “If you desire to go, dearest, then we shall go. Do not listen to him. He would have us out all night dancing if he could.”

  Charlotte smiled faintly, too tired to argue. The nightmare had returned last night, and she had barely slept a wink after she had awoken from it, tossing and turning until the pale light of dawn had finally arrived. Her eyelids were heavy now. So heavy that she thought she might just fall asleep in the carriage on the way home. She shouldn’t have come. If she hadn’t, George and Diana could have stayed out longer, and she would not have spoilt their night like this.

  “Let us get our cloaks, sister,” said Diana.

  They retrieved their belongings and were walking toward the doorway just as a figure entered. A tall man dressed smartly in a black tail-coat and matching dark breeches, a grey silk cravat tied around his neck.

  Charlotte’s heart seized. It was him. Lord Sebastian.

  He stopped abruptly when he saw her. And then he walked towards the group, his eyes never once leaving hers.

  “Lady Charlotte.” He bowed. “May I have the pleasure of a dance?”

  ***

  She was so astounded that she couldn’t think of an excuse not to. She would have had a very good one. They were just leaving, after all.

  Charlotte locked eyes with her siblings, and George and Diana smiled indulgently as Lord Sebastian took her arm, leading her gently but firmly toward the dancefloor. Her sister took her cloak, and then they were stepping out together.

  Charlotte could see the eyes of the fashionable set upon them as they passed by. The ladies whispered behind their fans, eyes sharp and appraising. Even the gentlemen were coldly assessing them. Charlotte’s face burnt, but then she raised her head higher. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was the daughter of an earl, even if they had never heard of her before. Or even if what they had heard of her was innuendo and rumour.

  She knew they would have made up their own stories as to why her parents left her behind in the country, like a forgotten puppy, while they cavorted in London during the season. Or perhaps they had just forgotten that she existed entirely. Out of sight, out of mind. And now she was stepping out again, with one of the handsomest and most eligible gentlemen on her arm.

  They reached the dancefloor. The orchestra took up their instruments and the music started.

  Charlotte, confused, stared at the other dancers. The gentlemen and their partners were approaching each other. Then the ladies raised their hands, and the men took them. But even worse than that, the men rested their other hands on the small of the ladies backs.

  She stared up at him. “I do not understand. What dance is this?”

  He smiled slowly. “Why, it is a waltz, Lady Charlotte. It is all the rage in Vienna and other fashionable cities on the continent. The ladies at Almack’s have only recently introduced it to their set.” He paused, studying her face. “Have you never danced it before?”

  Charlotte shook her head quickly. “Never. I am afraid I shall have to decline, my lord. I do not know the steps.” She moved to walk away, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

  “Just follow me.” He put her arm into the air, taking her hand in his and resting his other on her back. “I will lead. It is easy. Just a basic three step, going in a circular motion.”

  Charlotte’s face burned brighter. She could feel where his hand rested on the small of her back. And he pulled her closer towards him, so that they were facing each other. So close that she could see the faint outline of black stubble beneath his chin. The scent of his cologne. Was it Bay Rum? She knew all the younger gentlemen preferred it. It was strong and sharp. She drew in her breath quickly, not knowing which way to turn her head.

  He was sweeping her around the room now, joining all the other couples who were whirring around like spinning tops on a nursery floor. He gazed down at her, smiling faintly. She smiled back, breathless. She could see the curve of his dark lashes. The sweep of his cheekbones. She had never been so close to a man like this in her life. Besides her father and brother, of course.

  She stumbled slightly with the unknown steps and his alarming proximity. Alarming in ways she could not have anticipated. Her heart was beating rapidly and she found that she could barely raise her eyes to look at him. Instead, she stared resolutely over his shoulder, trying to keep a modicum of composure.

  “I regret that I did not get a chance to say farewell to you at my family’s ball,” he whispered, staring down at her. “I searched for you when I finished dancing.”

  Charlotte reddened. “Alas, I was tired, my lord. My family also wished to depart early.”

  He nodded faintly, sweeping her around the room. “Did you enjoy it, at least?”

  She nodded. “It was most agreeable. Your family surpassed themselves, at least in my humble opinion. I have never seen such a spectacle.”

  He sighed. “My parents insist on it. They give one grand ball each London season, and it always coincides with midsummer. Now it is a tradition.” He paused. “I must admit that it is commonplace for me. But with you, I am seeing it through fresh eyes.” He tightened his grip on her, so that she was forced a fraction closer to him.

  “I am honoured, my lord,” she whispered, her heart hammering. And then she made the mistake of returning his gaze. She stared up into his eyes, and everything seemed to recede, as if she were staring at him down a long tunnel.

  The other dancers disappeared. Even the sound of the orchestra diminished. She felt that they were the only people in the room. He was holding her and she was gazing up at him, spell-bound by his intense green eyes. The moment suspended, wavering slightly like blancmange on a plate, before it stopped.

  She gasped, coming back to reality with a jolt. The music had ceased, and the dance had ended. All the other couples were leaving the dancefloor, and yet they remained as if caught in a tableaux vivant. A living, static picture, frozen in time. His hand still held hers, and his other rested on her back. They continued staring at each
other for a second, before she broke contact, stepping back.

  What was happening to her? It truly was as if a fairy godmother had swept into the room and waved a magic wand, turning her into someone else entirely. Charlotte prided herself on her decorum and composure, especially in public. She only betrayed her innermost emotions to her dear sister and brother. She had learnt to hide herself even from her parents. But now, all of that careful training seemed to be lying in ashes on the floor.

  She gazed at him, shaking like a leaf all over. Despite her earlier symptoms, she knew these tremors weren’t connected. She knew that the malady wasn’t responsible this time. The cause was Lord Sebastian Wharton.

  He looked a bit shaken too. But he quickly recovered, holding out his arm to her. “I have need of refreshment, Lady Charlotte. And it appears that you do also. May I escort you to the tables?”

  She hesitated a moment then took his arm. Vaguely she was aware that people were staring at them. Even George and Diana were hovering around the edges of the dancefloor, watching them. Taking a deep breath she accepted his arm. There was nothing else that she could do. Indeed, she didn’t think there was anything else she was capable of in that moment. Without his arm to support her, she feared she might fall down entirely.

  ***

  By the time they reached the tables, accepting the lemonade he proffered to her, she had composed herself. Not completely, but enough that her hand shook only slightly as she sipped her drink. However, she still found it hard to gaze at him directly, almost as if he were the sun and she might be suddenly blinded by his light.

  He smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “Did you enjoy your first waltz, Lady Charlotte?”

  She took a deep breath, wondering how to respond. She couldn’t tell him the truth, could she? That she had never been affected so deeply by a dance, and that if she ever danced a waltz again she would surely remember this first time as if it were yesterday?

  No, she couldn’t tell him that. He would think her mad. To tell the truth, she was seriously wondering if she was.

  “It was different,” she replied eventually, still trying to avoid his eye. “I apologise if I stepped on your feet. I haven’t been taught the steps, as I told you.”

  “You followed beautifully,” he said slowly. “You did not step on my feet at all.” He paused, grinning. “Well, maybe once. But my toes shall recover, I am sure of it.”

  Charlotte blushed. “I did try to tell you, my lord. I am afraid you took the risk and paid the price.”

  “It was a price worth paying,” he drawled. “I would pay it again in a heartbeat, if it meant I could dance with you, Lady Charlotte.”

  Charlotte’s blush deepened. She knew he didn’t mean it. He was just flirting with her. It was almost required in fashionable London society, if a gentleman and a lady were conversing.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose herself again. “Thank you, my lord. But I am afraid my brother and sister are waiting for me. We were about to depart when you arrived.”

  His eyes darkened. “But we have hardly had a chance to speak,” he said slowly. “It seems that whenever I manage to find you, you are already about to vanish.” He paused. “I am attending Covent Garden tomorrow evening with my family and some guests. There is a performance of Handel’s Orlando.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Indeed. My family have tickets.” She smiled. “Although I suspect I shall have to drag them to it. Only my sister shares my love of dramatic opera. My brother and parents much prefer the comedic pantomimes that are all the rage now.”

  His eyes lit up. “I had a feeling you would prefer serious opera,” he said. “I am afraid I am dragging my family to it as well. And our guests.” He paused, his eyes clouding. “Well, my mother’s guests, at least.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I have heard good reviews of it. Particularly Miss Hardy in the role of Angelica. You are familiar with the opera?”

  “Indeed.” He inclined his head. “Miss Hardy is the talk of the town.”

  At that moment George and Diana wandered over, hesitating slightly.

  Sebastian turned to them, bowing. “Castlereagh. Lady Diana. I apologise for monopolising your sister.”

  George grinned. “It is good for her, my lord. But I am afraid the carriage is ready and our mother shall tan my hide if I do not get my sisters home before midnight.”

  Sebastian smiled. “Good evening, then. I hope we shall get a chance to speak at the opera, Lady Charlotte.”

  Charlotte curtseyed, as did Diana, and they walked swiftly away.

  Diana gripped Charlotte’s arm as soon as they had settled in the carriage. “Sister! I do believe that Lord Sebastian Wharton is falling violently in love with you. He could barely take his eyes off you.”

  “I’ll say,” said George, tapping the roof to start the carriage. The driver complied, pulling out onto the street. “You have made a conquest there, Lottie. Spiriting you away to dance like that. And we weren’t the only ones to notice. I think that the whole assembly was watching.”

  Charlotte blushed. “He was only being polite,” she said, gazing out the carriage window. “I am sure you are both exaggerating.”

  She continued to stare out of the window, feeling as though she were glowing from the inside out.

  Chapter 7

  The Countess of Montgomery wriggled uncomfortably in the gilt-edged seat of the opera box. She sighed, picking up her program and eye glass, studying it critically.

  “I do hope we are not in for hours of tedium,” she pronounced crisply, looking at her children. “You know that Papa and I prefer the pantomimes.”

  Charlotte, who had just settled into her own seat, stared at her sister. They both smiled. Diana leaned over, taking her hand, and squeezed it. Charlotte squeezed it back, almost overcome with excitement. She had not been to the opera in years. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had come to Covent Garden. It must have been when she was thirteen or fourteen, but it had been a pantomime. This was the first time she was going to see a serious dramatic opera.

  George, who had just taken his own seat, stifled a yawn. “It is going to be a bore, Mama. We know that already.” He grinned at his sisters. “We are only here for Lottie and Di. You know that.”

  Their mother snorted. The earl sighed heavily, tapping his fingers on the edge of the box as he gazed down at the patrons taking their seats in the auditorium. “It is a good turnout, at least. I think it shall be packed.” He turned to his wife. “Just prod me if I start snoring, my dear. I think I shall be out for the count before the end of the first act.”

  The countess rolled her eyes, swatting him with her program. “You shall do no such thing, my lord. What would people say? I declare they already think us the most dreadful country hicks.” She sighed. “At least it shows that we are willing to be cultured, I daresay.”

  Charlotte and Diana stared at each other, stifling giggles. It was always the way. The two sisters were the only ones in their family who appreciated music, books and art. The earl and countess were happiest on their country estate, riding and hunting, occasionally attending a local dance. George was the same. He had always disdained anything cultural, practically living in his jodhpurs when in the country, a gun slung over his shoulder. In London he preferred going to boxing matches and frequenting gambling rooms over ballet, opera or poetry recitals.

  Charlotte gazed anxiously around the theatre. The stalls below were almost full, and the boxes opposite were filling quickly too. Where were Lord Sebastian and his family? She bit her lip, her eyes scanning the boxes.

  Diana had teased her unmercifully about his interest at the assembly last night, and she had to admit to herself that he did seem a little taken with her. She had been unable to stop thinking about him all day, and the strange way she had felt when he had waltzed with her. She could readily admit that the butterflies that had sprung to life in her stomach were not all due to anticipation about watching the opera.

&nbs
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